


Contagion

by elaine



Series: Sentinel and Harper [5]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious disease threatens Blair's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contagion

Sweetheart swooped low, avoiding a clump of Thread and turned his head to flame them in passing. J'mellison patted his neck in approval, his eyes already seeking the next target when a flicker of movement - not Thread - caught his attention. Through the blue haze he saw Blair standing, staring up into sky darkened with Threadfall and making no attempt to find cover.

But there  _was_ no cover, not so much as a pebble, anywhere in sight. The land stretched flat and featureless to the horizon. Without conscious thought, J'mellison directed Sweetheart towards Blair; he'd be safer on dragon back, even without the protective gear that riders wore. Under his thighs, he felt the tremendous muscles of Sweetheart's neck bunching as the bronze threw himself into a plunging dive aiming straight for Blair, wings straining to control their descent.

They were going to do it. His heart pounding in fierce relief, J'mellison leaned forward, his arm already outstretched to Blair. But Blair seemed oblivious to his danger, turning his head to smile up at J'mellison as though there was no Thread anywhere in sight. As though he had no comprehension of the danger that Thread represented.

Almost there. In the space of a couple of heartbeats, he'd have Blair with him and as safe as any man might be during Threadfall. Almost there, when a huge clump of twisting silvery Thread fell between him and Blair, enveloping his lover in a hissing, sickening mass.

Horrified beyond measure, J'mellison screamed rage and denial as the Thread devoured Blair, eating through skin and tissue and bone, the thin tendrils swelling obscenely as they fed. In seconds there was nothing left but a pile of turgid silver worms, squirming on the bare ground seeking anything they could devour.

***

J'mellison woke with a gasp that sucked air into his starving lungs.  _Shards_! His chest heaved and he could almost tell himself that the tremors in his arms, his whole body, were due to the lack; but he'd be lying. Fuck, how he hated those blue-tinged dreams; they never augured anything good, and never told him what he needed to know to avert the danger.

This one was clearer than most - he turned his head to stare at the empty space where Blair should be sleeping. He'd left two days ago to visit a tiny, remote cothold some of whose men had found an unknown device left behind by the Ancestors. J'mellison had flown him there on Sweetheart's back, a concession from Blair that had pleased him at the time, but now he wished he'd refused to allow Blair to leave.

As if Blair would have listened. J'mellison laughed shortly, his body still shaking with the aftermath of his dream induced terror. He forced himself out of bed and went through to the bathing chamber, grabbing a washcloth to wipe the sweat from his face and body. Then, feeling somewhat recovered, he headed out to the ledge where Sweetheart lay grumbling about being woken from his rest.

“Can you talk to Blair? Is he all right?” He hadn't asked before. It was clear to him that Blair and Sweetheart had some kind of understanding, but how far it extended, he wasn't sure. Now, he wished he'd asked earlier.

_I can't talk to him, not like I can with you. But I can usually tell if he's all right._

So, no more than the bond allowed J'mellison to know. And right now, he could get nothing. But then, it was the middle of the night, after all, and the holding Blair was visiting was only an hour behind Benden, though much further north. He'd surely be asleep.

 _We can fly at first light._  Sweetheart sounded as troubled as J'mellison felt.  _Threadfall's not due for another three days._

“Wake me at dawn,” J'mellison instructed grimly, though he doubted he'd sleep again this night.

***

The cothold looked deserted when J'mellison and Sweetheart came from  _between_  at their dawn. Even at this time, there should be some holders about their business. Frowning, J'mellison instructed Sweetheart to land in the bare ground in front of the rambling stone buiding.

They'd barely touched down when one of the holder children came running unsteadily out of the dark entrance. “Don't come any closer, please, sir. There's sickness in the hold.”

“Sickness?” Reluctantly, he stayed on Sweetheart's massive neck. There'd been no sign of sickness when he'd brought Blair to the cothold. “I'm here to speak with Master Blair, the Harper. Is he sick?”

“I'll bring him, sir. Please stay where you are. Healer Tamas says no one is to enter or leave the hold.” With that the girl turned and stumbled back into the dark doorway.

It was only a matter of a couple of minutes before Blair appeared in the doorway, his face lightening in a smile. “J'm! You've come at a bad time, though maybe you can send a message to the Healer's Hall. Our drummer's among the sickest, barely conscious.”

“What's the problem?” J'mellison's fingers clenched on the bony ridge at the base of Sweetheart's neck. He wanted nothing more than to go to Blair and sweep him into a tight embrace, to feel his lover warm and solid and  _alive_  in his arms. “The girl said you have sickness here?”

Blair nodded sombrely. “J'm, it's like nothing Tamas has ever seen, nothing I've ever found in the Records; and it spreads fast. Everyone in the hold's showing signs, yet there was nothing when I arrived here.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper, “the first two to fall ill - they're close to death.”

J'mellison's gut twisted. “I had a dream that you were in danger. You have to leave  _now_.”

“I can't, J'm.” Blair slid his sleeve up his arm, revealing a lacy, purplish rash. “I didn't have this last night. It's the first sign.”

***

The first two men died later that morning, the drummer and three others followed a couple of hours later. Throughout the cothold people were becoming too sick to help themselves. Only Blair remained relatively well, though he was soon showing signs of fever and breathlessness.

Sweetheart had relayed all the information Blair was able to provide back to Simonth, and T'gessian had sent it on to Masterhealer Borrick and Masterharper Rossan. Neither had been able to recognize the illness, though a massive search was underway through the Records of both Halls. J'mellison could only watch helplessly, unable to enter the hold proper, and unsure whether he and Sweetheart were far enough away to have escaped the contagion.

If the timeline held true, it would be two days before he could be certain and by that time all the holders – an entire extended family – would be dead and Blair dying. J'mellison could almost hope he  _was_  infected, if it gave him the chance to hold Blair in his arms one last time.

Even Blair's natural optimism was unable to stand firm when the children started dying. By the end of the first day nearly half the holders had succumbed, including the chief holder himself.

“I think it's something to do with the device,” Blair announced tiredly the following morning. “While I was trying to sleep…” a fit of coughing interrupted his speech, and J'mellison looked on helplessly as he wiped away flecks of blood. “I realized that the illness started with Velgan and Serris, then appeared next with Holder Marden and Lagar.”

“The drummer?” Velgan and Serris had found the device, and Marden, surely, would have been the first person they told about it. The drummer would have been called immediately to send a message to the Harper Hall. “Who next?”

Blair smiled wanly. “Velgan and Serris' immediate families, and then Marden's and Lagar's. From there it gets more confused. But, J'm, it was less than a day between Velgan and Serris showing signs and the last few people in the hold. And then there's a gap of a day until I started showing signs.”

Blair had arrived just before the first signs had shown in Velgan and Serris, and a day and a half after they'd found the device. “So, two days to show signs, three more days to die…” J'mellison swallowed painfully and directed Sweetheart to send on the news. “What  _is_  this device?”

“I don't know.” Blair sighed and coughed again. “I'm going to examine it some more, but I can't see anything that might cause an illness. It looks like a kind of far viewer, except that it's designed to make small things look larger rather than far things look closer. Besides, I don't think it  _can_  be the device, since Velgan and Serris brought it back in its box, unopened.”

“Then maybe it was something where the box was found. Do you know where that was?”

Blair shook his head. “Even if I knew, I don't think you should go there.”

“I have to do  _something_ , scorch it!” J'mellison's fingers tightened into fists. “I can't just sit here and watch you… watch you  _die_ …”

“And what benefit will it bring me to know that you'll die too? No, J'm. If you love me, please spare me that.” Tears sparkled in Blair's red-rimmed eyes and he took half a step forward before visibly forcing himself to stand still. “I'm sorry. I'm so  _sorry_  that you'll be left, but you'll still have Sweetheart.”

At that, Sweetheart made a soft keening sound of distress and Blair shifted his attention to the dragon. “You'll look after him for me, won't you, Sweetheart?”

 _Tell him I will._  Sweetheart lowered his head to the ground beside J'mellison, his eyes whirling in distress.

But J'mellison turned away, a muscle working in his clenched jaw, and said nothing.

***

The hardest thing, J'mellison found, was enduring the night. He'd slept on the ground, sheltered by no more than Sweetheart's wing and a thin blanket. Although 'sleep' was a poor description for what actually passed. How could he sleep when he couldn't even be sure that Blair would be alive by morning? According to the timetable they'd worked out, Blair had at least another day and a half, but that was small comfort. Some of the children and elderly had succumbed faster. Telling himself that Blair was a fit and healthy young man was not particularly reassuring.

When morning finally came, Blair emerged from the doorway, unsteady on his feet, his face as pale as a corpse. “They're all… oh, J'm… all of them…” Tears flooded his cheeks and he sat, suddenly, as though his legs had given way, and buried his face in his hands.

“Blair…  _Blair_!” J'mellison spoke sharply, sick fear curdling his gut. “Did you look at the device? Did you find anything?”

“I… uh…” Blair coughed harshly and there was significantly more blood on his hands when he lowered them. Blair stared at them blankly for a moment, then raised his head. “J'm, I need some of your blood. On a cloth will do.”

“My blood?” He was already unsheathing his knife. He made a quick, deep cut in the ball of his thumb and smeared the blood onto a corner of his shirt, which he then cut away and tossed to Blair. “What do you need my blood for?”

“It's just a thought.” Blair blinked dazedly. “Last night when I was inspecting the close viewer - I'm sure that's what it is, J'm - I started to cough and some of my blood got onto the viewing slide. I thought maybe if I could compare it to some uninfected blood…” his voice trailed off for a moment and he shook himself. “What good it'll do, I don't know, but…” Without bothering to finish, he turned back into the Hold.

It seemed an interminable time before Blair returned, though the sun's angle had hardly changed. Every moment now could be Blair's last, and if it happened while they were apart… it occurred to J'mellison that Blair probably  _would_  hide himself away, if only to ensure J'mellison wouldn't do something stupid. He swore under his breath, but put on a brave face as Blair got closer.

“J'm… I think I might have… have the answer.” J'mellison could hear the congestion of his lungs that made it difficult for Blair to talk. It was growing steadily worse. “I don't know what this disease is, but there's  _things_  in my blood that aren't in yours. The close viewer shows it all so clearly, it's…” another harsh, wet cough interrupted Blair and J'mellison had to wait it out, all the time longing to go over and support his lover as he swayed, perilously close to toppling onto his ass. “It looks like Thread, only it's in my blood. But it's not in yours, so you'll be… be okay.”

“Thread? In your blood?” Blair must be losing his mind, J'mellison thought. “How can Thread-” 

“Not  _Thread_ ,” Blair interrupted, “ _like_  Thread. But maybe it's like Thread in other ways.” He looked at J'mellison in surprise and slowly folded to the ground.

“ _Blair_!” J'mellison started forward, then stopped as Blair's hand came up to wave him back. With painful slowness, Blair managed to get himself into a sitting position. “How can this help us? If it was Thread it'd be eating you up from the inside out.”

Blair shook his head slowly. “I don't know J'm. But it's all we have.”

***

Once Sweetheart had relayed the message through Simonth to the Healer and Harper Halls, there was little left for J'mellison to do. Blair was too weak to move unnecessarily, and there was no reason to do so. And, as much as J'mellison ached to make him more comfortable, to hold him and care for him, it would only cause Blair pain to know that he was risking almost certain infection. For his own part, J'mellison didn't care, but Blair didn't need to know that as soon as the last breath left his body, J'mellison planned to carry him to Sweetheart's back and take all three of them  _between_.

Blair was lying huddled on the ground, barely conscious, when Sweetheart gave J'mellison MasterHealer Borrick's instructions. He could hardly bear to take his eyes off Blair for a moment, but he turned his head to look at Sweetheart disbelievingly. “Take him  _between_? Is that  _all_?”

 _The chill of_ between  _kills Thread. Master Borrick believes it may kill the Thread in Blair's blood._ Sweetheart was obviously convinced it would work, and dragon always seemed to know these kinds of things instinctively. J'mellison allowed himself a tiny flicker of hope. _It has to be for a long time, not just a hop like we normally do. The cold has to penetrate deep into Blair's body to kill the Thread._

“But how is that possible?" J'mellison shook his head hopelessly. "The furthest we can jump on Pern still takes no more than a three-count.”

 _Dragons can jump_ between _times as well as places._  Sweetheart informed him with a hint of smugness.  _We just need the right images. Simonth agrees. It's been done before._

J'mellison digested that in silence, his eyes straying back to Blair. He was wrapped in a blanket that J'mellison had tossed him earlier, and was shaking with fever. “How long? How far back do we need to go? And how do we know where…  _when_  to go?”

_T'gessian is consulting Benden's Records. Simonth says we'll have to go someplace where there's no danger of meeting anyone, but we may have to jump to Benden Weyr first, so we get the right time, and then to another place._

“The Southern Continent's only been inhabited for the last thirty or so Turns. Tell them we'll go there. We just need to know when.” With something to hope for now, J'mellison's mind started to waken out of blank despair. “We'll need provisions, medicine. Proper bedding.” He extended his senses, listening to Blair's lungs, his labouring heartbeat. “Blair may be too weak to survive.”

_He'll survive, J'm. We won't let him die._

In spite of himself, J'mellison smiled. Sweetheart was utterly determined that Blair would live. Unlike his rider, he'd never considered any other outcome.

***

Finally, the preparations were completed and J'mellison was as ready as he was ever going to be. Sweetheart had jumped to Benden Weyr to pick up the necessary supplies and received the coordinates for the jump  _between_ in time; using the weyr's Records, Borrick and Rossan had calculated how far back in time they needed to jump and T'gessian had given Simonth an image of the constellations as they had appeared two hundred years ago.

"Two hundred years?" J'mellison repeated dubiously.

 _That's what he said_  Sweetheart's mental voice was as calm as if they were discussing a hop to Nerat for a picnic on the beach.

J'mellison shrugged. All he could do was follow instructions and hope for the best. Once again he checked the bindings of the supplies on Sweetheart's back and then went over to where Blair lay in a fevered daze.

He laid a gentle hand on Blair's shoulder. "Ready to go, Chief?" he murmured.

He'd explained to Blair what they were going to do, but he didn't think Blair had understood half of it. Sure enough, Blair flinched away with an incoherent protest. There was no more time to waste; J'mellison lifted Blair into his arms - staggering a little, for even dehydrated as Blair was from the fever, he was no inconsiderable weight - and carried him over to the impatiently waiting bronze. It took all his strength and coordination to seat himself between the bony ridges at the base of Sweetheart's neck, with Blair held firmly against him, and then buckle them both to the harness. Blair was wearing only his thin shirt and pants, the better to absorb the chill of  _between_. Not without some internal misgivings, J’mellison signalled Sweetheart to go aloft. He already had clear in his mind the image of Benden Weyr at dawn, and the positions of the constellations. Sweetheart had relayed them to him from T'gessan's Simonth, and knew them as well as he; but, true to the traditions of all the weyrs, Sweetheart waited on his signal.

Taking a deep breath, J'mellison sent the image to his bronze and the world fell away.

***

Since his sentinel abilities had blossomed, J'mellison had experienced  _between_  differently than before. It was nothing he could put into words, but it was  _different_. Of course, the fact that he had only ever been  _between_  as long as a three count didn't help him to analyse that difference. Now, he had the opportunity.

 _Between_  was supposed to be nothingness – and absence of light and sound and all sensation. It wasn't. J'mellison could almost swear there were  _things_  – creatures, perhaps? – in  _between_ , but he wasn't sure. His senses were twisted, distorted beyond understanding, and yet he sensed a kind of presence there. A sick, malevolent presence that tasted like yellow and sounded like bitterweed and was just plain  _wrong_. His senses were caught in a maelstrom, whipped into a hopelessly tangled mess. He thought he might have screamed, but if so, he couldn’t hear it. He could only endure until Sweetheart brought them all from  _between_  and into the bitter cold of pre-dawn winter over Benden Weyr.

Immediately, they plummeted, losing nearly half their altitude while Sweetheart struggled to slow their descent. Finally they levelled out, only a half dozen dragon lengths above the heights. Sweetheart’s hide was a dull, muddy grey and his wings beat lethargically. J’mellison could barely muster his thoughts enough to send them  _between_  again.

They emerged a three-count later over one of J’mellison’s favourite spots – a beach on the Southern Continent where the sands were heated by the same thermal activity that kept a hot spring bubbling at the eastern end. Sweetheart landed clumsily, and righted himself with an effort.

Sending a brief mental ‘thanks’ to Sweetheart, J’mellison fumbled with the straps that held both him and Blair in place. Blair was ominously still; limp and heavy against his shoulder, and J’mellison spared a moment to place his fingers lightly against the pulse at the base of Blair’s throat. His senses were still reeling from the onslaught he’d experienced  _between_ , and for a moment he thought it had all been for nothing. Then a faint throb against his fingertips told him Blair was still alive – barely breathing and dangerously chilled, but alive.

Somehow, he managed to free them from the restraints and slide to the ground, landing heavily on the loose sand and stumbling to his knees, Blair clutched precariously against his chest. J’mellison bowed his head and fought for control. Blair was far from being out of danger; there was still a lot to do before he could rest. “Sweetheart, can you unload the supplies?”

 _You’d better stand clear_  Sweetheart turned his massive head and pulled at the binding that held their supplies in place. Then he lifted the netting and lowered it to the ground between his forelegs. He was moving with all the speed and grace of extreme age.

It was more than J’mellison could manage to lift Blair again, so he left his lover sprawled on the warm sands, for what benefit they might bring, and forced himself to walk over to the enormous bundle of camping equipment, clothing, food, and medical supplies. Erecting a tent was completely beyond his capacities at this point, so he ignored that, and the food, which could wait until later, when he might possibly have an appetite again. What he needed were the blankets and furs to wrap himself and Blair in. When he found them, he laid the furs out on the sand beside Sweetheart’s body and dragged Blair onto them, then covered him with the blankets.

Blair didn’t stir at all, and his eyelids barely flickered. J’mellison had seen this before, among men and women who’d been exposed to extreme cold. The only remedy was to feed them with hot liquids and share body heat – and yet  _he_  felt chilled to the bone, having worn his rider’s gear. Blair had had no more protection than a thin shirt and pants. Wearily, J’mellison forced himself back to the supplies. There was a flask of hot broth in there; he could only hope that it had retained some of its heat in the prolonged time  _between_.

The broth was barely tepid, but J’mellison managed to coax a little of it between Blair’s lips. It might help, he thought desperately. If not, there was nothing more he could do for the present. Even gathering firewood and reheating the broth was beyond him, and Sweetheart was slumped uncomfortably against the warm sand and showing no signs of wanting to move. J’mellison stripped off his clothes and crawled beneath the blankets, wrapping himself around Blair’s icy body. The last thing he was aware of was the shadow of Sweetheart’s wing unfurling and covering them both.

***

It was daylight when J’mellison woke again, but the angle of light was vastly different – late afternoon instead of early morning. His first thought was to check on Blair, and the results were reassuring. He was warm, but with the natural warmth of a healthy body, not the fierce fever heat of before. He showed no signs of waking, but J’mellison was satisfied enough, for the moment.

He still felt weak, his limbs aching as though he’d flown double Threadfall, but his head was clearer and the lingering memories of what he’d experienced  _between_  no longer had the power to overwhelm him. With a regretful sigh, he forced himself to leave the comfortable nest of bedding and walk out from under Sweetheart’s wing. There were things he needed to do before nightfall.

An hour later, he’d set up the tent of wher hide and transferred Blair and all the bedding into it. Now, he was trying to coax a fire into life. Sweetheart, he had sent off to hunt, concerned by the sickly pallor of the dragon’s hide. His own hunger had been assuaged with hard bread and fruit and a sizeable slice of cold roasted wherry meat. Now, he needed to warm some food for Blair, who was still showing no signs of waking.

At last the sparks from his flint caught and began to smoulder in the small bunch of dried grasses. He blew cautiously, coaxing a bright, tiny flame into life before placing it carefully beneath a loose framework of twigs he’d scavenged from above the tidemark. They were tinder dry and took the flame easily; soon he had a merry little fire burning in the makeshift fire pit. He added a few larger pieces of driftwood and waited until they’d taken the flame before going to the second shelter where he’d stowed their supplies, safe from any scavengers who might wander by.

It wasn’t long before the smaller of his two pots was suspended over the fire and the broth inside rapidly heating. Sweetheart returned, his normal healthy bronze colour almost restored. The dragon settled in a shallow bowl he’d made in the sand and sank his head down on his forelegs, blinking sleepily.

“Feeling better?” J’mellison went over to rub between Sweetheart’s eyes, only just within his reach. “You weren’t gone long.”

 _The wherries here are stupid and easy to catch._  Sweetheart burped with surprising delicacy, but J’mellison clenched his nostrils shut. Dragon breath wasn’t the sweetest of scents.  _I can bring you some next time. Is Blair better now?_

“The fever’s gone, but he hasn’t woken yet. He’s very weak.” He tried not to think about that too much. It would be unbearable if Blair survived the fever only to succumb to the stress of the prolonged time spent  _between_.

_He’ll be all right. Blair’s stubborn._

The certainty of Sweetheart’s tone cheered J’mellison in spite of his fears. “Like someone else I know.”

Sweetheart ignored the jibe and a moment later J’mellison heard a soft, rumbling snore. He turned his attention back to the fire with a smile.

***

Blair slept for two days. By the end of the first day, J’mellison was satisfied that he was eventually going to be okay, but it was still a relief when Blair opened his eyes and smiled dazedly up at him. “J’m? Wha’?”

He slid an arm under Blair’s shoulders and propped him up with a thick bundle of fur. He reached for the bowl of broth he’d readied when Blair started to show signs of waking. “Borrick and Rossan found a cure for the disease.”

“Dis…” Blair frowned, bewildered for a moment, then his eyes widened and J’mellison saw the memories flooding back. “Oh, J’m… all those people… if only we’d…”

“I know.” J’mellison fed him a spoonful of broth. “But even if some of them had survived long enough, the cure… well, it’s not really practical for a large number of people.”

He held the spoon out again and Blair took the broth obediently but without any noticeable enthusiasm. J’mellison answered the question in his eyes asked as he swallowed. “Sweetheart brought us  _between_ , back in time two hundred years. You were half frozen, but it killed whatever was in your blood.”

“Back in  _time_!” Blair’s eyes lit up. “I know it’s been done – I’ve seen the Records, but…” he sighed and accepted another spoonful. “Did you make this? It tastes awful.”

He  _had_  made it, actually, having already finished the broth he’d brought with them. J’mellison started to laugh. After a moment or two he dropped the spoon back into the bowl and tried to control himself, without success. He was laughing so hard that Sweetheart woke from his snooze and started making grumbling enquiries about what was so funny, and still J’mellison laughed. He laughed until he toppled over on the bedding beside Blair and lay wrapped in his arms.

***

The return journey was to take place in stages – each jump a twenty-five year interval, for which Sweetheart already had the information they needed. It ought to be manageable but, as Blair’s health slowly improved, J’mellison felt an increasing reluctance to experience  _between_  again; one he couldn’t bring himself to confide to Blair. Instead, he insisted on waiting until he was satisfied that Blair would be in no danger from going  _between_.

“Shards, J’m, I’m  _fine_! Will you stop treating me like an invalid?” Blair had been getting increasingly impatient over the last few days. He was almost completely recovered, though still a little too thin for comfort. “What is  _wrong_  with you?

“Nothing’s  _wrong_ , Blair.” J’mellison winced a little. He could hear the defensiveness in his own voice. “I just think… you don’t know what it’s like being  _between_  for a long time. It’s  _different_ , and I just want to be sure…”

“How is it different?” Blair’s eyes were suddenly intent on his face. He always did read J’mellison too easily. “What happened, J’m? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m  _not_  afrai…” J’mellison sighed and shrugged, turning his face away from Blair’s too perceptive inspection. “When we came here… while we were  _between_ … I  _felt_  something.”

When he didn’t continue, Blair prompted gently, “something? What, J’m?”

“I don’t  _know_!” J’mellison felt his jaw clenching. He glanced at Blair and away again. The memory of  _between_  had faded rapidly in those first few days, much to his relief. But now that the prospect of going  _between_  again was getting closer, he found he was having brief, indecipherable flashes of memory that left him feeling sick and confused and helpless. “I don’t remember what happened. Just… it felt like there was something… and my senses were… I don’t know.”

Blair came to stand at his side, put a hand lightly on his arm. The warmth of Blair’s body was more comforting than J’mellison wanted to admit. “J’m, we have to go back. And this time, it’ll be much shorter hops. It’s going to be okay.”

“I know that.” But still his stomach roiled in protest. He turned, taking Blair into his arms and burying his face against the springy mop of hair. “Tomorrow?”

Blair’s arms tightened around him. “Tomorrow. We can make a jump and then see how you feel before we continue.”

***

They rose before dawn and loaded the bundle of supplies onto Sweetheart’s back in silence broken only by the dragon’s grumbling. Then J’mellison settled himself in the natural “saddle” between the ridges at the base of Sweetheart’s neck. Blair scrambled up behind him, dressed in his warmest clothes and wrapped in a blanket for good measure.

The first hop, to Benden Weyr, was no more difficult than it had ever been – a three-count, and then they were hovering over the weyr, while Sweetheart oriented himself with the alignment of the Red Star.

“Ready?” J’mellison waited for Sweetheart’s assent; felt Blair’s arms tighten around his waist – part reassurance, part security, even though they were both clipped to the safety harness – and gave the order to go  _between_.

It lasted for a measurable amount of time. Long enough for J’mellison to feel that sickening tangle of sensation, to sense that inchoate presence from before. And then it was over and they were hovering above Benden Weyr in exactly the same location.

The Red Star was in a different position.

“J’m?” Blair’s voice brought him out of a near fugue. “What happened? Are you all right?”

“I’m…” he swallowed, working his jaw a little to ease the tension. “It’s… bearable. I can do it.”

“We’ll take it slowly. We can stop between jumps and rest for a while if you need to.”

He still had to repress a shudder as he gave the order to Sweetheart for the next jump. It didn’t get any easier, but it didn’t get worse, either. When they emerged from the last jump, J’mellison couldn’t hold back a huge sigh of relief.

One that was echoed from behind him, quickly followed by an enthusiastic pounding on his back. “We did it, J’m! We’re home!”

***

“The miners are setting up enough explosives to reduce the hold to rubble.” T’gessian exchanged a sombre look with Rossan. It had only been a few hours for them, and they still felt the weight of those many deaths – the loss of an entire hold, even one as small as this, was a terrible tragedy. “And the ruins will be doused with agenothree. The harpers will spread the story so nobody will go near it. It’s all we can do.”

“Blair,” Rossan leaned forward, his voice urgent. “Are you sure you don’t remember any clues about where the device was found? We need to prevent anything like this from occurring again.”

“It was somewhere in the hills, about a four hour ride. That’s all they told me.” Blair shook his head. “It could be anywhere – the hills are like a snake warren in that area. We should warn people to be careful if they stumble across any other of the Ancestors’ hiding places.” He hesitated, then burst out “ Why would they set traps like this? For their own descendents?”

“The Records hint at… tensions.” Rossan patted Blair’s arm consolingly. “And certainly there were factions among them. There may have been outright fighting. We know that other hiding places were found and some of these had traps set. We just don’t know why.”

Blair shook his head, speechless for once, and J’mellison laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. In the last few days before their return Blair had been having nightmares about the disease that brought him out of sleep sweating and distressed. “There’s nothing more we can do?”

“Go.” T’gessian waved them away. “It’s good to have you back safe, Blair. Have you seen the healer yet?”

“No, but I’m fine.” A faint smile flickered across Blair’s lips. “My nursemaid, there,” he gestured towards J’mellison, “made sure I was cured before we started back.”

“You still need to rest.” J’mellison growled. Nursemaid? He’d show Blair what nursemaids were capable of. “You’re not completely recovered yet.”

The other two men exchanged a significant look and T’gessian grinned. “It’s still two more days till we’re due to fly Threadfall again. You’re relieved of any duties until then.”

“Thanks.” J’mellison cocked his eyebrow at Blair. “This nursemaid thinks you need to get some serious sack time. And I don’t want any arguments.”

Blair bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, his eyes full of laughter. “No. You’re right. I think I feel a relapse coming on. A couple of days in bed should do wonders.”

He laid his arm across Blair’s shoulders, ignoring the stifled laughter from the other men, and guided him towards the door. “You’d better believe it.” __


End file.
